


Duplicity

by black_milk



Category: Paladins: Champions Of The Realm (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Dubious Consent, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-18 23:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14862398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_milk/pseuds/black_milk
Summary: None of this was part of the plan.





	Duplicity

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of a larger exploratory Sha Zhin fanfic I will never complete.
> 
> For future readers: keep in mind that at the time this is written, very little lore for Paladins has been released, so discrepancies are to be expected.

“Come, sit.  Drink with me.”

“I hope I’m not in trouble,” Sha Lin teases as he takes a spot directly next to Zhin.  Zhin throws his head back in bellowing laughter, a sound that cackles and competes with the hearth in front of them.

“I would not offer a man a drink if he were in trouble with me.  No, I merely wish to speak with you,” he says. He’s already shoving a drink in his hand.

To that, Sha Lin lifts his glass and replies, “All good things, I hope.  Who am I to refuse?”

As Zhin pours something maroon and thick into his glass, Sha Lin takes the opportunity to assess his surroundings.  The tyant’s room is surprisingly plain for a man of rumored indulgence, bathed entirely in jewel tones and accented by spots of gold.

At the center is a lit fireplace surrounded by plush red cushions.  There are no windows and no exits — for safety purposes, Sha Lin supplies — save for doorway they arrived from, and no personal items.  Apart from a wardrobe, a wine stock that lined the back wall, and a bed, it was barren. Sterile. Despite the heat, the thought produces a shiver.

“When you arrived at our doorstep, I was skeptical,” Zhin says.  “The legendary Sha Lin looking to join the Thousand Hands — I wondered what you wanted and how you would betray me.

“But you have proven yourself loyal time and time again.  Today, I found myself in a position I could not rescue myself from.  You saved my life. You could have taken my empire, but you did not. I wanted to thank you for that.”

Sha Lin lets out an uncomfortable laugh.  “I was doing just as any of your men would do.  It is hard to be part of an empire when its leader is dead.”

“Do not insult my intelligence.  We both know that isn’t true.”

Sha Lin’s mouth presses into a thin line.

“In our line of work, trust is hard to come by.  I would not trust my back even with the closest of my men, but you — you are different.  You’ve offered yourself to me in ways others have tried before, but unlike them, you proved yourself a worthy confidante.  You have seen me at my weakest and have not betrayed me.

“Admittedly, I’m still not sure I can trust you,” Zhin says. “but I am curious of you.  You fascinate me.”

They are close now. The proximity dulls his senses and heightens them all the same: Sha Lin can no longer feel the heat of the fire in front of them, distracted instead by the radiating warmth of Zhin’s skin, urged by alcohol and marked by flushed cheeks. The usual severity of his face is smoothed by his drunkenness, and he is more handsome for it, younger and vulnerable. Less of a calculating crime lord but more of an unsuspecting man.

A coldness settles in the pit of Sha Lin’s stomach. He finds himself distressingly sober.

Zhin, for his part, relishes in the numbness and the insouciance the alcohol provides him. With as many enemies as he has, it is an indulgence he rarely partakes, rarer still accompanied — and he could find no better companion than the legendary Sha Lin. It is true that tales of his exploits piqued Zhin’s curiosity and suspicion, but it was his undeniable skill, unwavering loyalty, and stirring charisma that enraptured the tyrant like moth to flame.

He’s drawn to it now. Zhin watches the reflection of dancing fire in the forest of his eyes, casting dark shadows. It is brown and green, like Earth, and Zhin supposes Sha Lin is much like Earth, too, for if Zhin is all-consuming fire, carried by reckless emotion, Sha Lin is solid rock, tempering wild passion into humble submission.

 _But he is also wind_ , Zhin thinks. _Encouraging and guiding my hand_. How valuable a member to the Thousand Hands. How lucky was he to have him.

He _yearns_ to have him. The revelation comes not as a bang, but a whisper, and Zhin allows its truth to wash over him. The _truth_ is inarguable — he wants this man. He wants him in the simplest of ways. He wants him as a partner, to realize his position as his right-hand man and confidant. He wants him in the most complicated of ways. He wants him as a lover, to bed him and lay in comfort with him at night.

It’s a revelation that comes with an overwhelming sense of action. He wonders what Sha Lin would think if he touched him. The restraint he expressed now was uncharacteristic, but he didn’t want to harm his chances, so inflamed by desire he thought he would collapse from it.

He watches him for a sign. It’s when he focuses and realizes that Sha Lin is staring at his lips that he advances.

Sha Lin is swallowed into a consuming kiss. He’s prepared for it, but he’s not prepared for the _intimacy_ — for Zhin’s hand, dry and gentle, cupping his cheek. For a moment, when they part, they share the same air. Silent. They lock eyes. Still.

Sha Lin surges forward and captures his mouth again. It’s wet and bruising and exactly how he pictured it, but part of him — a large part — already misses the fantasy.

But gentleness is not part of the plan.

(None of this was part of the plan.)

His grip on Zhin is tight.  His fingernails dig blunt crescent shapes into the flesh of the older man’s jaw as he takes control of the kiss, confident now that he was in his element.  Zhin himself is unused to dominative lovers, paranoid of relenting control, but he comes to realize that, in this moment, he doesn’t mind.

Perhaps it’s the novelty.  Never before has he taken a male lover and Sha Lin is unlike any woman he’s ever had.  The differences are noticeable immediately. There is little softness to him beneath Zhin’s splayed hand on his chest, a sense of power that goes beyond the physical.  The exhilaration that comes from knowing he’s sharing himself with an equal is breath-taking.

He allows himself to be guided over top of Sha Lin and spills his drink in the process.  It distracts him, worried momentarily over its location next to the fire, but Sha Lin refocuses him with his hands.  One arm is curled around his shoulder and into his hair while the other trails a caress from his face to his chest.

“That was an import worth over two hundred thousand crystals,” Zhin reprimands.

Sha Lin offers a breathy laugh, lips catching over the grain of Zhin’s jaw as he murmurs into his ear, “I think I know just the way to repay you.”

His hand falls decidedly lower, leaving anticipatory sparks of electricity in its wake, and captures his hardness with a suddenness that forces an involuntary thrust from Zhin.  Pressed together, Sha Lin responds in kind, setting a pace between them that turns too frantic too quickly, muted by the fabric between them.

Quick work is made of their fastenings.  Exposed to one another, the roughness of the friction eases by poured alcohol, turned wet-slick and soaking the younger man, but even this is not satisfying enough.  Zhin is all but patient as he reveals Sha Lin’s lower naked half, and once again takes note of his maleness while he palms his bristle-covered thighs.

“I wish to have you,” he says “Guide me.”

So he does.  Taking Zhin’s fingers into his mouth, coating them with saliva, the preparation is slow and cautious.  It has been a while since Sha Lin has laid with a man.  When Zhin is finally buried inside of him, he stills him with a hand on his chest until the burn subsides.   _This would go faster with lubrication_ , he thinks, but the tyrant is uncharacteristically accommodating.   _Gentle_.

Gentleness is not part of the plan.

In the end, it is Sha Lin who sets the pace between them, who forces the tenderness away with the roll of his hips.  If Zhin is disapproving, he doesn’t let it show, instead meeting every thrust in renewed vigor — and _this_ is exactly how Sha Lin envisioned it, down to Zhin’s bruise-raising grip and the sharp clacking of teeth.  They consume each other until the only things remaining are harsh breaths and dying embers.

Zhin lays heavy above him.  It’s sticky between them, but not uncomfortable.  The younger man takes a moment to catch his breath when Zhin rises to procure a towel to cleanse them.  He’s suddenly too tired to feel guilt over the care Zhin provides him, instead choosing to close his eyes and give into his tenderness.  To think a tyrant was capable of such affection.

Zhin’s voice is soft, like a caress.  “I would have you always, if you would permit it.  A man of your ability combined with my influence — we would be the strongest men in the realm.  Neither the Magistrate nor the Paladins could hope to defeat us.”

“I rather like the sound of that,” Sha Lin replies.  The power, he means, and the glory obtained by that power.  Being the stuff of legend always appealed to the younger man’s narcissism.  But he could not stay with the man — wouldn’t dream of it — not when innocents were dying.

Not when what was between them wasn’t real.

None of this was part of the plan.

“You’ll stay, then.”

It wasn’t a question.

He pulls Zhin into a lazy embrace, shifting to rest his chin on top of his head.  The older man melts into his touch.

“I’ll sleep first,” Sha Lin jokes.  Zhin laughs in response.

He tells himself he’s doing Zhin a kindness as he disappears the following day, accompanied by a majority of the Thousand Hands’ crystal reserve, but Sha Lin doesn’t believe it.  Not for a second.


End file.
